


Your Shades

by Sakurasmiles



Series: Confluences [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: (But Only Sometimes), Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Ambiguous Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Angst and Feels, Complicated Relationships, Crystal Tower Arc Spoilers (Final Fantasy XIV), Final Fantasy XIV Spoilers, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Gender-Neutral Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Grief/Mourning, Introspection, JP Localization referenced, POV Second Person, There's still some room for good though, Unreliable Narrator, questionable coping strategies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 08:51:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20486168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sakurasmiles/pseuds/Sakurasmiles
Summary: Contrary to popular belief, the Warrior of Light isnota natural at the whole "light of hope" thing.





	Your Shades

**Author's Note:**

> I'll have a JP localization translation/analysis at the end if you noticed that tag, but the fic still makes sense if you've only been exposed to the English localization—it'd be best to look at the Notes after reading, if you're curious.
> 
> WARNING: There's references to alcohol a few times. (I'm not sure, but could be potentially triggering.)

It was a long time before you permitted anyone to share a sleeping room with you, even your closest friends. Not your bed—never your bed—but just being in others' presence for rest was intolerable at first. You left groups early, slipping away before people exchanged partings. You couldn’t stand for anyone to tell you "goodnight"…

You're sure that’s not the outcome he'd wanted from his attempt to bring levity to your goodbye. But it hurt all the same, the way he'd said it over his shoulder with the air of a relaxed "until tomorrow, then" as the Tower's doors slammed shut. Remembering it, either directly or echoed from others, made you irrationally angry and despondent. It was better to just avoid it altogether.

You still don’t know if the other NOAH members could hear him as the gates closed—no one discussed it, nor your collective loss. Nothing save the next invention to work on, the next idea to pursue. Their theories on how to make the realm one he could exist in again; that it would never happen in time was left unsaid.

Instead, the crestfallen expression no one exchanged flowed through you like a poison after the Allagan hands lost their glow. (Until they had, you’d desperately hoped he might yet emerge having thought of something else, a better path to take…something,_ anything._)

It wasn’t showing on your face, either. You fought for a neutral look until you knew you could conceal how much this was decimating you, and deliberately walked ahead of the others towards the camp in case it broke. But before that, you managed to smile.

Of _ course _you smiled.

It’s impossible to be a light of hope for others if they know when you have none left.

* * *

Over time, grief for him lessened (but never quite left you.) Your silent but acute mourning dulled to a quietly lodged hole in your chest: no longer painful with every breath, but no less empty and lonely for it. It would have to do.

You went about your business as the Warrior of Light and ally of the Scions, having private “chats” with Raha in the calmer pauses to tell him of your life. And on some days simply describing the various landscapes you’d discovered, being sure to include the details you knew he’d enjoy.

He was a far too fun verbal sparring partner for you to just _ stop _talking with him, after all. You had more than enough sass and imagination to carry his side as well, even if it was all lies you willingly told yourself to keep his memory strong. (You were cognizant though of how it would look if anyone knew, keeping it a careful secret.)

You didn’t want to know what people would say about one-sided dialogues with a sleeping-but-effectively-dead…friend. (You’d never known for sure if his feelings met yours, not even taking such liberties with his name until he was gone. But there was no point in wondering about it anymore.)

You hadn’t really understood Edda, that time in the Tam-Tam Deepcroft. But it makes more sense to you now.

* * *

Eventually, you gained perspective that your grief had obscured. Instead of seeming like a farce born of denial, you appreciated Rammbroes’ research and its related Ironworks projects for the ideal they represented: ensuring that he would not sleep away an eternity, even if he’d awaken without anyone familiar—without _ you—_there.

You’d never know if Raha was right or not to choose this, and that really didn’t matter; you hated what happened regardless. But…you’d learned to see the pieces of him that shone brightly in his choice, his boldness and bravery and desire to make a difference in the realm, and that was a minor comfort.

A while later, catching up over drinks at the Seventh Heaven, the efforts of a slightly smaller NOAH were affectionately codenamed Operation Water Bucket. After tossing out ideas ranging from pulling him by the tail, to a remotely controlled automata insect buzzing loudly in his face…everyone’s fondest mental image for waking G’raha Tia from one of his infamous tree branch naps was a gush of water splashed up at his face; his ears and hair sopping wet, partially blocking the indignant expression he’d surely have. It stuck.

(Of course, you all agreed, someone would first carefully remove the inevitable book from his slackened grip, lest the rest of NOAH face his divine wrath for having _ dared _risk inflicting any water damage. There were lines one should not cross among friends, and this was one of them.)

If there was a hint of sadness in the chuckles that accompanied the christening, it was understood as universal in the quiet lull that followed.

* * *

So much has happened as you’ve found joys and navigated tragedies in familiar Eorzea, foreign Ishgard, and even farther Othard. You know that if anyone’s been bothering to record events as you go, he’ll stay with piles of related literature for hours upon hours once he obtains them. Most likely foregoing sleep as long as possible, as he used to in the tents at Saint Coinach's Find. His lamp light reading created dramatic wall shadows of his even _ more _dramatic yawns, which did him no favors when you’d prod him to rest. (“Just go to sleep already, G’raha! Do you think that tome is going to grow legs and wander off on its own?”)

You can almost hear his irked voice huffing “I’ve slept quite enough, thank you _ very _much” to a future someone expressing concern for his well-being. In fact, for their own sake you’re nearly tempted to offer a prayer that they’re blessed with considerable patience and fortitude.

But…the thought still leaves you torn. You want there to be people in his new life who would consider him friend enough to care, but you’re envious of them all the same. (You don’t dare imagine what would happen if he created the same spark in someone else that had jolted you. Twelve knows you’re just as reckless with your mind as you can be with your weapons, but you know your limits.)

You _ do _ want him to have people he can talk with for hours though, as you used to with him. _ And not like what I’m doing these days, either, _you think wryly as you get comfortable in your room for another “chat” with him.

In the end, you settle for hoping he’ll have people he can be happy with, and himself with—that sits rightly with you.

* * *

The conversations about deaths are always the hardest, and ever too frequent.

It was hard enough telling him about the Scions’ disappearance, believing Her Grace to be dead, Raubahn…every near miss was difficult to vocalize, even in the rare times when there were no lasting consequences for those involved.

But Moenbryda… Ysayle… Papalymo…

Haurchefant.

(That had been…a particularly messy evening. You may have polished off an entire bottle of Ishgardian brandy as you spoke of the Elezen man, and still don’t remember if you properly said it all before drifting off into oblivion. The head pains that plagued you the next morning made it difficult to pierce the drink’s fog, and the entire conversation became more and more faint as the days passed.)

You’re trying, you really are. But…as time goes on, you’ve found it harder and harder to maintain your smile. The one that he (and everyone else) believed suits you best, despite terrible odds and even worse outcomes.

…it always hits you hardest when people sacrifice themselves to fill in the gaps created by your limitations or failures. It shatters you just a little each time—crack upon crack upon crack; an increasingly choppy sea of faults at your core. You can’t remember what it was like to feel whole and hale, nor when you last did so…

(You wonder if Hydaelyn felt like this at all after each Calamity, one after another after another, a feeling of _ wrongness _crescendoing by the seventh…)

Did it start with Raha’s sleep, for you? Or was it even earlier, beginning long before the damage was perceptible?

How many times has your soul been fractured?

How many years will you be able to keep this up?

How many months…since you were first called the Warrior of Light?

You can’t answer…any of it.

And, even worse…

…it’s something that shames you, but sometimes the gravity of losses can’t fully reach you anymore. Despite what Hydaelyn said you are, despite Minfilia’s words before her first of many sacrifices, despite what Raha wished to see from you in history…it’s so bleeding _ hard _to always be everyone’s hope. To stay as a constant light in a sea of sadness, to be an unbroken path for others to follow, no matter what happens around you.

You do the best that you can do, and do care about those you meet and their plight. But you just…can’t always grieve for them anymore, when things go horribly wrong. It’s all too much sometimes—to always be feeling, to so often be losing…

You’re quite aware that your flat tone washed over detached words during certain talks with Raha is probably alarming irrespective of the actual conversing. You just try not to ever let that aspect of you show, aside from those quiet conversations with even quieter company.

There’s a realm to save, and the last thing you or anyone else needs is for them to worry about your resolve or well-being.

* * *

The days when you have pleasant things to tell him are the kindest ones. Though your realm-wide victories are what’s likely to be preserved in history, you cherish the chance to speak of happy events with him whenever you can. So you tell him the things that won’t make it into any books.

Every time one of your missing friends came back to you, Thancred and Y’shtola most improbably, you simply wept your relief to him. You liked to imagine him standing before you, gently placing a warm hand on your head as you sunk down to sit on your bed. The soft smile he wore that last day repurposed well for reunions instead of departures.

(You know that he’s capable of it; returning to the camp worn, discouraged from other duties, was frequent enough as the Tower expedition progressed. He’d learned to tone down his cheeky tendencies and cheer you up at those times, singing for you one of his family’s quieter songs—a lullaby perhaps, or a slow and winding ballad. And if even that couldn’t soothe you, he’d distract you with NOAH’s latest findings. He’d rest his arm lightly across your shoulders when you bent down at the table, both of you peering at research notes scattered on it, and you were never quite sure if he realized how comforting that was.)

Talking with Aymeric over dinner, especially his question of what you wanted to do for yourself and not as a Scion, was profound. G’raha’s mismatched eyes flashed before you at the question; yours closed to keep yourself steady as you readied a response. With everything that happened next, it was some time before you settled in again with Raha. But once you did…

It reminded you so much of late nights in the tents, telling him stories of your past after you’d yanked away his latest book or scroll. He always focused less on your actions when you’d pause for a sip of water, instead favoring further questions about the day-to-day details and your motivations. (“Yes, but _ what _ made you decide to listen and take on that baker’s plea? Was it something in the way that he asked you? Or did their breads just… _ smell _amazing or something?” You’re sure you gave him a deadpan look before elaborating as requested.)

But it always made you realize something new, whether about yourself or whoever it was you’d interacted with. More often than not it was quite lovely and, when it wasn’t, it still made you think. You hadn’t noticed how important his personal inquiries, practically interrogations, were to you until you’d lost them…and told Raha as much before succumbing to sleep.

You gave into your playful side once and told him _ all _about the time Y’shtola so succinctly shot down Magnai’s confession in the Azim Steppe. Normally you would have felt sorry for her would-be suitor, having seen your fair share of her wit in action. But you honestly thought Magnai deserved it by that point, and fought hard to keep a straight face that day. “The way Sadu and Magnai exchanged words right after, you’d think it was me and you at our worst!” You laugh, full genuine for once, and Raha’s laughter rings loud along with yours.

Raha couldn’t have possibly visited Rhalgr’s Reach, so you started another evening describing all the wonders of the site—the intricately carved architecture both on the ground and within cliffsides, no less amazing for its broken sections. The sacred spaces tucked away, and the altar cradled by the central lake and waterfalls. Lyse’s smile as you told her Yda’s dress suited her, and how much fun it’d been to spar on the massive statue overlooking the settlement.

“You would have liked Lyse, Raha”, you tell him wistfully after a sip of wine. “You both beam like the sun when you’re happy, and spread that to others so easily. I would have loved to see you two meet…”

…

“Mmm, I think so too.”

You tell him all the little moments like these, the ones that soothe your soul at least for a little while. It’s not mortar built to last when it fills the cracks inside of you, but at least the balm is something.

* * *

Sometimes you’re so grateful that aetheryte travel very rarely affects you.

It’s not the days when you need to be in 5 different places in the span of a few hours (though that would be a truly awful day if you were regularly afflicted with teleportation exhaustion.) And it’s not the times when you’ve set out on your next task, only to realize you’ve forgotten something important and must go back for it.

No, you appreciate it the most when you want to go back to Mor Dhona.

However far your journey takes you, you make a point to return to Revenant's Toll as often as possible. After stopping to say hello to familiar faces in the settlement, you always ensure that you see the Tower. You much prefer to travel to its doors directly, which would be nigh impossible if you were drained of energy before even setting out.

But even when your visits must be shorter, the view from atop the southeastern gate is good. You’ve even made due with a glance from the aetheryte plaza before departing, those times you’ve been on active business without a single moment to spare.

It’s so _ incredibly _ stupid…but, as you’re needed further and further away in the realm, it’s reassuring to be able to return in a flash just to verify that the Tower’s still there. It makes no sense when you pause to think on it—he won’t awaken in your lifetime, and where else would the Tower be even if he did? But still, it comforts you to see his place of rest is safe and sound, right where it should be.

And being in such proximity means knowing that, if only for a little while, you’re as close as you possibly can be to him. Which, on the days when you’ve precious little energy and a mountain of burdens pressing down on you, makes all the difference.

* * *

It’s on one such day that you’re sitting with your back against the Tower’s doors, feeling their thick weight behind you as you stare ahead at nothing. Imagining, with a smile, if he were to open them suddenly right now. You’d fall backwards and the shock of it all would cause you to bang the back of your head on the ground instead of a graceful recovery…but it’d be the sweetest pain of your life, looking up at him. Like the moment you first saw him atop the camp’s scaffolding after that ridiculous aethersand chase he put you through. It would be _ so _satisfying to be the one to quip “Did I not say we would meet again?“, even if you’ve never once thought it actually possible. (You’re unwilling to waste the chance to aim his sass back at him.)

Then your smile fades and your face falls, thinking of what it’ll really be like for him to emerge: a new realm, a new life, with nothing but strangers all around him.

You want him to awaken and know with certainty that you _ never _forgot him, not now and not until the day life's flow stops within you. You don’t want him to have to wonder about it for even a minute, so you’ll need to do something about that.

If your Echo’s taught you anything during this journey, it's that stories are most often just that. Stories: a recounting of deeds and events which are a poor substitute for actually witnessing them, even if they manage to be historically accurate. They rarely capture the thoughts and feelings and essence of those involved, and second-hand knowledge is far too susceptible to modifications (well-meaning or not.) Assuming said knowledge isn't erased as quickly as tomes can burn in fires or are ruined by floods.

And you’re not so far gone as to believe he _ actually _hears you when you speak to him.

You’ll have to think of how to broach the subject with Cid and the others without making your intentions clear—for reasons you don't like to think about, you fear them discovering how deeply Raha still runs within you. Maybe a marking can be made on the doors, or etched into the crystal itself? They might not even know of a permanent method, so it could require experimentation over the course of your lifetime to find something that will do.

But you suppose you should start by settling on what you’d like to leave for him. Your first instinct is to write all the ways in which you miss him. How you wished sometimes you’d barged in after him before the doors closed, staying beside him in shared sleep. Or if that wasn’t possible for you too, watching over his slumber as long as you could. (Maybe even sketching on his face if you were feeling particularly mischievous, just to make it interesting when he met the locals.) And damn the consequences of the land without its Warrior.

You might even admit that you’ve never stopped talking with him—you haven’t decided though if that would be a comfort, a sadness, or just too much to expect anyone to live with.

There’s so much and more you’d have him read if it were possible; overwhelming options to sort through. But instead you gather up your things with a reluctant sigh, preparing to teleport away. You can’t afford to be gone for much longer right now; too much to do and never enough time.

You’ll definitely make it happen for him though. Even if it’s beyond you right now, you’re not over worried. You’ve survived so much, and know your strengths, your weaknesses, your faults, and how to give your everything despite it all.  
  
Just before you teleport away you glance back at the closed doors and smile. Ah, _there's_ your opening words.  
_“Good morning, G’raha Tia"_  
  
You’ll manage everything, somehow…it’s not as though he’s going anywhere.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> I swear this was supposed to be a generic, highly transferable WoL pining fic when I first added this idea to my list. (Hah!) But it became snapshots of my own character's specific headspace instead. I've felt a strong need to reconcile Poker Face 2.x with the WoL that shows much more personality and emotion later, so this is pretty much my head canon for that.
> 
> (I remember when I first finished the Crystal Tower raids I was actually _really_ irritated at our G'raha. I think my exact thoughts were "This is bullshit—he gets to just go to sleep, leave us to do all the hard work of fixing this mess, and in the blink of an eye he gets to wake up in a better world??" XD I'm happy to have been wrong because Shadowbringers is a masterpiece, but my personal WoL's reactions are at least partially influenced by my own initial ones.)
> 
> In any case, hopefully this was worthwhile for you (and not a purely self-indulgent piece!)
> 
> I'm prone to very long periods away from FFXIV, so it's only fitting I break a ~15 year fanfic writing hiatus with this fandom and particular pairing. I didn't write much back then either, but this ship could "throw wide the gates" for me. :) I'm hoping to write other works in this fic's setting from my list of ideas at some point—we'll see!
> 
>   
**JP localization explanation and theorizing**  
(bear with me—if my writing style or these Notes have not yet betrayed it, I'm naturally verbose) 
> 
> With my (admittedly abysmal) Japanese skill level, I sometimes notice very basic nuances or translation changes between the JP voice acting and provided English text. (Which was my original inspiration for this fic.)
> 
> Based on my elementary translation abilities, there's a slight difference in the English dialogue between the Warrior of Light and G'raha at the end of Shadowbringers (Cutscene #5 in The Unending Journey, with quest progression reflected):
> 
> English  
WoL: "'Tis good to see you awake, G'raha Tia."  
GT: "Well… 'Tis good to be awake!"
> 
> Japanese [w/ my translation]  
WL: "…ohayou, G'raha Tia" ["…good morning, G'raha Tia"]  
GT: "aa…ohayou…!" ["Mmm…good morning!"] _(The "aa", as far as I know, is basically a sound effect for agreeing with something that’s been said or is an acknowledgement of information the speaker already knew about.)_  

> 
> The EN and JP versions are not very different if you look at just the one cutscene. But the difference comes when comparing this text, a split second of animation on G'raha's part in this cutscene, and Cutscene #1 in the last Crystal Tower raid quest: The Light of Hope.
> 
> Based on the above translated text, in the CT cutscene the word that G'raha spoke over his shoulder that we don't get a text box for was probably "goodnight". (The informal "oyasumi" if it matches to 4 syllables like I think it does, or perhaps the more formal "oyasumi nasai"? This is less likely to me as I didn't notice G'raha use that level of formality in that cutscene’s JP text boxes.)
> 
> To be fair it's also possible G'raha said "sayonara" ["goodbye", with the connotation of it being a final parting.] If I understood the gist of the JP text, he does not say goodbye in the last text box. But in the EN, he says "Farewell, my friends. I eagerly await a future…" Since goodbye is only 2 syllables, it might not have been as realistic for non-Japanese speakers to guess what G'raha said. It could be that the EN localization team decided to bake the "goodbye" into the last text box instead to maintain intent?
> 
> (Or any other number of words—G'raha could be asking someone to toss him a pillow for all we know since we don't have direct proof via a text box.)
> 
> I still think it's "goodnight" though, because in my opinion G’raha’s tears in the ending SHB cutscene aren't just because he was called by name there. If you watch the SHB cutscene, just before G'raha starts to cry his face becomes really confused for a few moments, like he's wracking his brain to figure out why you'd say what you said out of the blue. Then he's shocked, then he cries, then he smiles. The confusion is what sealed the deal for me—if he didn't remember telling you "goodnight" at first, and had long ago memories to search through to remember what he’d quipped over his shoulder, it makes a lot more sense. 
> 
> (Especially because even if you stayed silent on Mt. Gulg, his face has already been exposed to you. Unless our boy has a concussion, which doesn't seem likely given the rest of the cutscenes, he knows already that you've seen his face. He'd be immediately surprised/teary, not confused.)
> 
> In the end there's no way to know for sure, so I'm going with the interpretation I like the most.


End file.
